What's a Girl To Do? Get Even.

In the magic business and in piracy, it was rare for one to find a job that was satisfying on a more personal level. Usually--at least for people who ran in the same circles as Anya--you were expected to fuck up some random spot and shake them down for what jewel they had on hand at the time. With that being the expected norm, jobs that deviated from it tended to get passed around from person to person with jokes being made at the expense of the would be client.

Typically, the Fleet didn't bother with petty revenge. But, Anya wasn't as high and mighty about her work as some of the other people in the guild could be. In fact, this job was perfect for her for a single reason: She was quite petty. She had met with the 'Unholy Alliance' that had put out the job request a few weeks ago. They'd come up with an interesting enough plan. That was why there was a glittering ring wrapped around Anya's thumb. As for the other exes? Well. The fact that they were living in Motor City made things a bit easier for them, as the sheer amount of noise the city created meant that there were loudspeakers spread throughout it so that public service announcements and other warnings could be made.

She'd had a few weeks to not only find, but to schmooze up to her target. The fact that she needed to do this nearly made her gag, really. Men weren't really her preference, especially the kind of man that she'd be dealing with. But, what was important was that she'd managed to get him to offer to take her out for some drinks. All she needed was to get him talking poorly about his exes. It was a simple plan. And while he might have been scum, there wasn't really a man out there scummy enough to throw a punch at someone so much smaller than them in such a public area, right?

At least, that was what she'd thought a few hours ago. The fact that she was having to dive across tables and duck under thrown chairs had made it clear that she was very wrong about that aspect. The plan was simple: She'd gotten her hands on a linked set of magic rings. One recorder ring, and three transponder rings. They were designed to allow for either security team leaders or military officials to divvy out orders to their subordinates. But hooking them up to the loudspeakers to air out all of this guy's dirty laundry?

That was something that hadn't been an intended use of the rings, but it certainly was possible. All she'd needed to do was butter the guy up, get some drinks in him. After that, she just had to activate the ring and let him talk. Once the lacrima in the ring were filled, the recorded message was sent out to all of the transponder rings.

What she hadn't counted on was the fact that the bar that he had chosen was just close enough to one of the loudspeakers for them to be able to hear the playback. Sure, it meant that she knew when the first half of the job was completed. But you know what it also meant? It meant she wasn't gonna be able to just cold clock him in the back of the head and beat the absolute dick out of him after.

At first she'd assumed that wasn't going to matter. They'd never said anything about him being a mage, so even if he was tough it would be easy enough to put him down with a spell or two. And she'd even fired off a spell. But he'd shrugged it off with an ease that worried her. Magic was a hell of a thing to throw at someone, so to take it in stride was worrying. As she rolled under yet another thrown chair, her eyes darted around, scanning the situation. She had to go non-lethal. She needed the money way too much to just say fuck it and kill the guy.

He kept shouting things at her--mostly gender based slur. But her attention wasn't really on that. Her mind ran through her small repertoire of spells. She scowled a bit as she thought on it. Between her offensive options there was Grapeshot from a Cannon, Soldiers with swords or guns, and a fist size hunk of brass. None of them were entirely non-lethal, but the first two were basically impossible to go non-lethal.

Shit. Well, it was better than nothing. As the angry chauvinist started to close the distance, her stance changed. Pivoting to the point where her side was facing him, Anya brought one hand back behind herself, clenched into a fist as the other hand wrapped around the front of it.

"God, you talk too fucking much! You know, maybe that's how you got caught so easily. Not my problem, though. Right now, you're the only thing between me and a paycheck. Metal Make: Brass Knuckle!"

With that, she clenched her fist more tightly, and threw a punch at him. As the punch was thrown, a large magic circle colored entirely silver formed in front of her, and a brass fist about a size and a half larger than hers was launched at the guy for the second time. This time he managed to kick a table into the way. The brass fist powered through it, but the loss of momentum clearly deadened the hit a fair amount.

This cat and mouse game continued for a little while. But after a few more rounds of spells--and having to tank a few chairs to the torso and getting clipped by a thrown table--he went down. Just in time, too. She started to hear the sound of sirens. So, snatching her coat off of the chair she'd been sitting in, Anya booked it into the nearby alleyway. She could sling it on quick enough, and the large coat--combined with the thigh high leggings--managed to all but entirely hide her outfit and figure. Tugging up the hood also hid her face. By the end of the next hour, she'd managed to slip her way out of Motor City, sailing away on yet another ship off into the night.

Word Count: 1,046
Total Word Count: 1,046
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